Friday, August 25, 2006
Woohoo! Take THAT celery!
I got the message not to bother with the celery thing, or testing my blood before every single meal. At least until my appointment Monday LOL. He decided since my sugar isn't SKY high or spiking and crashing that a couple more days is okay until we can take a closer look at things. I know I am a complainer, but food is love baby. I hate feeling like I can't control something, and to be so careful and watch what I eat then be treated like I have been hiding in the closet eating chocolate and processed cheese...well it upsets me. Today is the last day of day camp. What is that you say? There is one more week of vacation before school starts, and what on earth will I do with DD? I DON'T KNOW! I am as freaked out as you are. If she would be content to be home and just do stuff, I could keep her busy. We have craft stuff out the wahoo, a cupboard full of movies, toys toys and more toys. There is more than enough to keep her occupied. Yet, not. She doesn't want to DO anything. There is nothing on TV. She is hungry constantly yet rejects anything you offer, or refuses to eat what you made that she just asked for. Basically, as far as summer goes, I am back where I started. The house is a shambles, I have deadlines not only looming but shaking sticks at me and looking beligerant, and I will HAVE A CHILD AT HOME FOR A WEEK. I need a cold wash cloth and a lie down. This week-end I was hoping for a nice day of cleaning (puke, a nice day of cleaning my arse but I am hoping to delude myself) while DD was away for the day at a fair with her cousins. On Sunday we have a baby shower, so I guess I have to cook (and shop for) Ruby's food. Oh poo, her end-of-day-camp potluck is on the same day and time as the shower, so DH and I will have to divide and conquer....and he WILL bring her there whether he wants to or not, but again, that is a whole other can of peas...so Saturday I have to make whatever he will bring on Sunday. Cleaning, grocery shopping, cooking. And wrapping. I have to wrap the baby gift, but I can't do it now because I will have to pick up the wrapping paper while I grocery shop. I better not forget the tape this time either. I am running out of cute ideas for keeping the paper on presents, and I think people are on to me. So far I have used string, jute rope, silk braided rope, black electrical tape, duct tape, coloured duct tape, and hot glue. The last birthday I do believe I may have used rubber bands but it is all hazy right now *cough*. Look, do you think Martha Stewart started off with silk gros-grain ribbon? I'm sure there was a rubber band or two in her past, so give me a break okay? And we still haven't done our "back to school" shopping. She has a new backpack and lunch bag, and more pencils and things than she needs already - but she needs clothes and shoes. She has been wearing flip-flops for a month because I didn't want to buy her new shoes too soon, and her old ones were getting uncomfortable to wear. Not really too small yet, but very very close. DH tried to tell me they were fine, and she didn't need anything new. She has grown out of the middle of every single pair of pants she has. They are long enough in the leg, but now there is two inches of midriff showing, and they look like low-riders. Butt crack is NOT acceptible for school, thank you. She needs new clothes, and that is that. What is it about men, that they not only can wear the same clothes for hundreds of years, but they wear things that clearly stopped fitting them in fifth grade. My DH has t-shirts that wouldn't fit a ten year old, that he WEARS. I won't let him wear them outside the house if I can help it, but a few times he managed to slip past me. Note to all husbands out there....if your belly hangs BELOW the bottom hem of the t-shirt, if it is so tight you can read the paper through the fabric. If it has runs in it like pantyhose and you can see skin through the perfs of the seams. IT DOES NOT FIT, and it is time to let go and move on. And it is never for lack of things in the drawer to wear either. Sometimes I wonder if DH thinks t-shirts are like wine, and have to age a few years in his drawer before he can start wearing them. He is the same with socks and underwear. A drawer full of unopened packages of both, and the ones he is wearing are only holding together through sheer willpower and fabric softener residue. He has socks with holes that are so large, you can't even call them holes any more. I say when your socks turn to ankle warmers (not to be confused with wrist warmers, see previous blog post) it is time to throw them away and open a new package. Really, it is okay. I'll hold your hand. This disorder of not being able to tell when it is time to let a piece of clothing go, extends to DD. He has dressed her in t-shirts so tight they made her wheeze, and declined to see anything wrong. I actually had to cut a shirt off her once, that he had jammed over her head and tugged over her arms. No way could I get it off again no matter how hard I pulled - she was in danger of losing life or limb if I tugged in any direction. Out came the scissors. Not fun, cutting a shirt off a hysterical child. He put her in pants that were so far up past floods that she could have waded in a waist deep pond and barely get a cuff wet. Or had waistbands so below her waist that her "coin slot" was more like a "margarine tub lid slot". If you can't pull the pants up without causing her personal injury, they are too small. He has no history of dealing with growing out of clothes, and I think that is his problem. His parents barely bought him clothing. He wore mostly hand me downs from his cousin, who was ten years older than him. No way he could grow out of something in a season. If they did buy him anything, they always bought two to four sizes too big - something MIL continues for DD. I don't mind storing clothes until they fit, but they are always the wrong season. She grows into winter clothes when the temps are in the nineties, and cute shorts outfits when there is snow on the ground. MIL has kept some of FIL's old clothes in the hopes DH will wear them someday. His father had 12 inches in girth and 2 feet in height on him, and trust me, DH has stopped growing. Taller anyway ;). The chances of him being able to wear any of that are pretty slim. He insists he can still wear his jeans he's had since high school (he squeezes them on, which is painful to see, and wears them really really low. That equator gets lower every year. Pretty soon they will be cinched around his knees. He'll shuffle out of the bedroom like a geisha, give me a wink and say "See? Still fit"). No way will he ever admit to a larger size, or agree to wear something THAT big.